Seasons of Love
by joymoonshoes
Summary: When Klaine splits up and Kurt returns home, hurting and trying to piece himself back together, what will become of the New Directions family?  Puckurt, Purt, AU.  Noncon.  Slash.  Femslash. Het. T for violence and sexual themes.
1. Chapter 1: Don't Call My Name

**Seasons of Love**

**Summary**: When Klaine splits up and Kurt returns home, hurting and trying to piece himself back together, what will become of the New Directions family? Puckurt, Purt, AU. Noncon. Slash. Femslash. Het. T for violence and sexual themes.

**WARNINGS**; if you are frightened/offended by male-male or female-female or male-female relations (sexual or not), I would suggest turning back and looking up a story about puppies/rainbows/harmless woodland elves. Previously this story was MPREG, but then I decided to take it in a different direction:) The warning is about boy-boy and girl-girl moments where things will get heated:D Sorry homophobes, you're going to have to suck it up…and go fuck yourselves because, really?

**OTHER WARNINGS THAT DON'T INCLUDE A RANT**; Language, underage drinking, dark situations, semi-dark/insane Blaine

**FYI**; The title for this fic was inspired by Seasons of Love from Jonathon Larson's gorgeous play/movie, RENT. I thought it was fitting for this as it's going to be a partial romance story and the relationships of Kurt's life as he struggles with…dun, dun, dun…

:P You probably already know from the Summary/Warning

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee, if I did my name would be Ryan Murphy or I would own Fox Studios. As my name is _not_ Ryan Murphy and I'm a paraprofessional/Teacher's Aide, I do _not_ work at Fox.

**Pairings: **Puckurt, Pummel, Purt

Brittana

Quam

Finchel

Dacedes, Mavid, Mervid?

Tartie

Wemma

Klaine (minor)

Asian Fusion (minor)

Mentions of: St. Berry, Kurtofsky (one-sided), Blaine/OC, David/OC, Wes/OC, Finn/Santana, Will/Emma, Kurt/Brittany, Puck/Quinn

**Chapter 1: Don't Call My Name...**

"_Don't want to kiss, _

_Don't want to touch..."_

_Alejandro_, Lady Gaga

Kurt Hummel knew, however inexperienced he was, the progression of relationships. He knew that after dating for three months and doing nearly everything that could be done while wearing clothing, it was time to take it to the next level with his boyfriend, Blaine, but he wasn't…ready, as cliché as that sounds.

Blaine was lovely and the perfect gentleman. He asked Kurt out on a romantic first date. He remembered their one-month anniversary (even if Kurt wasn't much into one month anniversary's since…well, that's kind of ridiculous) and made sure that Kurt's _real_ first kiss was as loving and tender as it could be, in order to contrast with Karofsky's bruising lip assault.

He'd been slow, careful, and kind. He hadn't even pressured Kurt. Well, not really. There had been subtle hints and Blaine always initiated the dry-humping and got off by thrusting himself against Kurt's thigh which sent a cherry blush staining Kurt's face and neck. But he hadn't insisted…much and Kurt was grateful for that.

Whenever one of the other Warblers would tease Kurt or Blaine about the sex thing (not in a cruel way or even more than a few gentle jibes) Wes and David would stiffen, sending an odd look at Blaine. An odd look that Kurt had yet to understand, but never failed to make Blaine's kisses and caresses just _that_ much gentler; it was a look that had Blaine holding him tenderly after a brief make out session, running a hand up and down Kurt's back and cooing soft words and praises of love.

It confused him, but 'The Look' wasn't doing any harm, so he let it be.

That day had gone down without a 'Look' and David and Wes were in chipper moods (he had come to find out that Wes was very much a fun person, but was really, really serious about his job as Warbler council and didn't trust easily) and Blaine had been smiling and laughing all day long. The positive energy was contagious and by the time Blaine and Kurt finished their weekend homework, Blaine was practically igniting in sexual tension—especially after the wine-coolers they drank (snuck in courtesy of Wes and David).

The small countertenor didn't even think about it when he leaned into kiss Blaine. He didn't become worried when Blaine moved them to the bed. He didn't even startle when he felt that hard line against his thigh. It wasn't until Blaine's hand slipped into his own pants, caressing the semi-hard (he _was_ a teenage boy getting hot and heavy with his boyfriend, after all) organ.

"B-Blaine!"

The older boy chuckled, apparently mistaking his protest for pleasure, "Sh, babe, someone will hear us."

"Blaine, stop."

"You'll like it, I promise," he replied huskily, unzipping the thinner boy's jeans. Kurt shoved him back, only managing to send him jerking a little. Blaine's eyes narrowed, "Kurt, stop being such a tease!"

He scowled, angrily flushed cheeks turning a shade darker, "I'm not being a tease."

"Sure you are," Blaine whispered, pushing Kurt back against the bed and managing to unzip and remove his pants before the younger boy could so much as yelp.

"Blaine! Stop! I'm being serious!"

"Shut up, Kurt."

Kurt hopped off the bed (pants be damned) as Blaine removed his own clothing, meaning to leave the room only to be harshly shoved into a wall, a growl ripping from Blaine's throat as his hazel eyes smoldered. Formerly gentle hands held him against the wall in a bruising grip and covered his mouth.

Kurt's blue-green eyes widened as he struggled against Blaine, trying to shake the boy off or even bite him.

"Stop it, Kurt," snapped Blaine, undoing the button's of Kurt's button up. "You'll enjoy this, I promise, don't you trust me?"

Kurt's terrified glare clearly said no as he continued to struggle, nearly managing to slip out of Blaine's grip when he bit him.

"AH!" yelped Blaine, shaking his hand about before lunging after Kurt, catching the pale boy only barely before he reached the door, slamming the boy against the floor and straddling him. A whimper escaped Kurt.

"Please, Blaine, _please_ don't do this. You love me, remember?"

Blaine's gaze softened giving Kurt hope that this was just a weird fantasy of Blaine's that would put a bump in their relationship, but not end it all together. "Of course, I love you. That's why I'm doing this. This is what you do when you're in love."

Kurt squirmed, "No, Blaine, when you're in love you wait for the other person to be rea—mmph!"

Blaine broke the kiss (bruising and painful, not at all like him), smiling and running his hand down Kurt's face in mock-tenderness, "You'll never be ready without my help, beautiful."

"Bla-"

Kurt's eyes widened as the hand that had come to rest against his throat squeezed it, stilling instantly.

"Stop talking," the shorter (only by a half inch) boy ordered, grinding against his love (well, former love now) and victim.

"Are you sure we should interrupt their alone time?" asked David, trailing behind his best friend. He and Wes had been an official bromance for three years strong. They were nearly always together and were even dating sisters.

Wes, frowning, sighed, "I don't really feel comfortable leaving Blaine alone too much with Kurt."

"He's seemed better lately."

"He seemed better before Ross, too," said Wes, grimly.

Ross Holloway, Blaine's third and longest relationship, was a former student of Dalton Academy. His parents were upper middle class and, wanting the best education their money could buy, sent Ross to Dalton. Where he met Blaine. Where he fell in love with Blaine. Where Blaine fell in love with him. Where Blaine, on a night so different from this snowy, pristine atmosphere that screamed romantic walks and snuggling by the fireplace, raped him.

It wasn't that Blaine was a monster or even a bad person. He was their best friend. He was generally a kind, thoughtful, chivalrous boy from a good, loving home. He just had some very convoluted ideas about sex. His first boyfriend had been older and had taken it too far, too fast. He'd been rough. He broke up with Blaine immediately after, claiming that Blaine had been too much of a tease and that maybe, in the future, if he and his boyfriends had sex sooner, they'd always be in love.

It really warped the curly-haired Warbler.

Both were lost in thoughts of the past (incidents covered up by the massive amount of money Senator Anderson, Blaine's doting father, possessed) as they arrived at Blaine's door, not even bothering to knock, they entered.

David wanted to be sick. Not from the sight of gay sex (although it certainly did nothing for him), but from the way Kurt's eyes were screwed shut, tears somehow slipping out and rolling down his ashen and red splotched face. He still wore his dress shirt, but it was open, showing bite-mark covered torso. Blaine had a hand on Kurt's throat, the other wrapped around…something not so hard while he thrust in and out of Kurt's thin form. He looked to be on cloud nine. His partner just looked ready to die.

"BLAINE!" Wes boomed, slamming the door. Blaine looked up, startled. His hazel eyes were glassy.

Kurt's eyes opened, too, settling on David as his tears came faster, mouthing 'help me'.

The two sprung into action, Wes pulling Blaine away, ignoring the stomach turning 'squelching' noise and tossing him into the wall as David pulled Kurt to the other side of the room, wrapping a blanket around him. His throat and lips were bruising already. His normally immaculate chestnut hair was in a state of pure disarray and tears streaked down his cheeks.

"H-He, h-h-he…! I didn't, I didn't," Kurt sobbed, bringing his legs to his chest with a sob.

David tentatively placed an arm around the smaller, younger boy, eliciting a wince and gently carded his fingers through the soft hair. "I know, Kurt, I know; I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Why? Why did he do that?"

"Blaine's messed up, Kurt. Really messed up."

It was an understatement. It wasn't what Kurt needed to hear. But it was all David had.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Wes slapped Blaine across the face, bringing the struggling boy down a little from his alcohol/adrenaline/crazy induced high. His hazel eyes focused. Wes took the opportunity to punch the SOB. Just hard enough to knock him out. They may be best friends, but Kurt needed them a little more right now than his rapist did.

"David," he called, "get Kurt in the tub and I'll move Blaine-y boy to our room and grab him some stuff. First aid kit's in the linen pantry."

The rich-skinned boy nodded, scooping Kurt up despite his protesting and quiet whimpers, carrying him into the bathroom (being a senior Prefect at Dalton had it's perks) and settling him on the ground.

Crouching, he put on a sad smile, "I'm gonna run the tub, okay?"

Kurt just nodded, holding the blanket closer. As David started running the tub, getting the first aid kid out, and a towel, it was silent. Until Kurt's statement brought him to a screeching halt, stomach falling past his knees.

"I haven't—hadn't ever had sex before."

His mouth fell open. The debacle with Ross had been bad. Bad enough, and he didn't look nearly as messed up as Kurt did. Ross hadn't been a virgin either (not that it really mattered when it came to rape, but with Kurt's first sexual encounter being a violent one, he had a feeling that it was going to lead to lifelong problems).

But that wasn't the problem now, David thought angrily, staring at Kurt's terrified, pale face. The problem now was that Blaine had very well had his dick in Kurt and probably had screwed the poor kid up for life.

"Shit."

Kurt's lips twitched, wryly drawling through his tears, "Putting it mildly."

"I don't know what to do, Kurt," confessed the taller boy, helping Kurt, very minutely, with getting undressed and into the tub, averting his eyes when he saw the blood streaking down Kurt's thighs. "Did he, uh, prepare you?"

"Sort of," Kurt whispered, pained. "He, um, he didn't have any lube so…"

David squeezed his eyes shut, "Fuck, Kurt, I'm…oh, God, I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault," he replied quietly, voice hoarse from the abuse he had taken to his throat, hissing as he sunk into the water, intent on destroying all evidence of what happened.

Wes entered the bathroom, lips tight and eyes hard, but forcing a smile at Kurt as he sat next to David on the counter ledge, "Hey, buddy, how you doing?"

His best friend elbowed him in the ribs, making him wince, "Sorry, stupid question."

"No, no, it's not. I'm…I'm not okay," admitted Kurt, staring at the slowly-turning-pink water. "Nowhere near okay, actually, but…I feel kind of…detached? I guess. Like this isn't happening. It _can't_ be happening because Blaine loves me, right? He _said he _loved me. I just, I can't…this can't be happening. It can't."

The two shared a look as Kurt rambled brokenly, David sending him a helpless look then pointedly glancing at Kurt. Wes's eyes slid shut and his knuckles whitened. Ten minutes later, Kurt was sufficiently clean and climbed (with the help of David who seemed to be the only one the fashionista didn't completely freak out around) out, toweling off. Blood still sluggishly crept down his thighs and hand shaped bruises marred his throat, hips, wrists, and ribs, attesting to the horror of that night. They cleaned out the bite marks, putting gauze and tape over them and coated his bruises in cream.

"What are we going to do about…um…"

Kurt's face flooded with shame, turning beet red as his head fell.

Wes sighed, "I kind of thought about that already. There's nothing to do really, but wait until it stops…unless you want to go to the hospital…?"

The brunette sharply shook his head, gaze fixed on the floor, but visibly shaking.

"Okay, then, um, when my girlfriend spend the night once she left," he held up a pale yellow maxi-pad box, "I thought it would, you know, keep it, um, contained?"

A raw sob escaped Kurt, emotions overwhelming him. He knew it was stupid, after everything he had gone through that night, to be most worried over the fact that he had to wear a _pad_ to keep from staining the sheets with blood, but he couldn't handle this, too. Not with everything else. He wasn't a girl. He was a boy. Sure, he liked boys. But he was a _boy_. Boy's didn't get their period. He _didn't_ have a period, damnit! He didn't need a pad!

Except he did.

He could only nod, getting dressed and putting _the_ thing lining his boxers before taking the Ibuprofen that Wes handed him and trying not to flinch.

As he was led out of the bathroom and, subsequently, Blaine's dorm to his own and helped into bed, ignoring the significant glances that Wes and David were giving each other, he prayed for the first time since his mother died—for the first time since he lost his faith in God (granted, he still didn't believe in some homophobe sitting up on a cloud, moving people about like chess pieces and agreeing with some fairytale story book that preached a lot of shit). He prayed that this would all be a nightmare. He prayed that he'd wake up in Blaine's reassuring, warm arms and the boy would be the same to him that he'd been since September. His mentor. His friend. His boyfriend. Not his rapist. Not the boy who took his virginity and left him bleeding and hurting.

He prayed until he fell into a fitful, nightmare-filled sleep.

* * *

**AN**: So…what do you think? Atrocious? 'OH MY GOD' how could you write this? Enjoyable? Interesting? Riveting?

I tried to make it as…readable as possible, though I know I have a thing for abusing ellipses or rather, I feel I do. I don't write graphic rape. Although this alludes to what is happening, it will _not_ ever go into the details. I've had this plot bunny in my head for quite some time. It will end up being 16 chapters, three or four a week, I hope. I have it all planned out (on paper, not in my messy, messy mind, thank Prada:)

BTW: I have nothing against religion or religious people-unless its fanatical and the crazies tell me I'm going to hell for liking both women and men. Personally, I don't believe in the Christian version of God, I believe that there is a benevolent creater who doesn't make mistakes and loves all his people (so long as they don't murder or hurt kids...) Anyway, enough of my religious beliefs... :) Please enjoy!

I hope you enjoy this. It won't be a consistently dark or sad story. In fact it has a lot of positive, New-Directions-family-filled-lovey-dovey moments. It features Kurt/the Glee Girl time, Kurt and the Glee boys. Kurt and Wes and David. Blaine's even featured; I'm not telling you whether he's featured in a positive light or not:D I'll save that for later!

Please review and enjoy:)


	2. Chapter 2: Let Go

**Seasons of Love**

**Summary**: When Klaine splits up and Kurt returns home, hurting and trying to piece himself back together, what will become of the New Directions family? Puckurt, Purt, AU. Noncon. Slash. Femslash. Het. T for violence and sexual themes.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee, if I did my name would be Ryan Murphy or I would own Fox Studios. As my name is _not_ Ryan Murphy and I'm a paraprofessional/Teacher's Aide, I do _not_ work at Fox.

**Update:** For anyone who read this story, pre-rewrite, it is no longer MPREG. It's just going to be a ND story with some good ol' Puckurt/Purt love:)

**HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 2: Let Go**

"_So, let go  
Jump in  
Oh well, what you waiting for?  
It's all right  
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown  
So, let go  
Just get in  
Oh, it's so amazing here  
It's all right  
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown…_"

**Let Go**, Frou Frou

Blaine Anderson woke feeling like hell. His head was pounding. His skin felt sticky and gross and generally out of sorts. His left eye hurt like a mother. He sat up, very groggily, glancing around—Wes and David's room.

What on Earth?

Last thing he remembered was sipping Wine Coolers with Kurt as they alternated between making out and studying for a Chemistry exam, which, in theory, probably wasn't a good idea since he couldn't remember shit about Chemistry. But then again, he didn't remember how he got _here _either.

Wine Coolers definitely do not have this kind of effect on him. In fact, they hardly have any effect on him _at_ all. So why does he feel like Katy Perry's 'Last Friday Night, TGIF' song?

He's not left wondering long as the door opens and in steps an extremely rumpled, tired Wes, who, for the record, sends Blaine such a glare he knows he must have done _something_.

"Wes?"

"You don't remember, do you?"

Blaine's endearingly triangular eyebrows contract, confusion all over his face and worry as he shakes his head.

"You didn't last time either," Wes says coolly, glaring.

His eyes widen as cool tendrils of fear snake from his stomach outward, reaching to the tips of his fingers. "No, no, I didn't…"

"Yeah, why don't you go ask Kurt that," the tall, Asian boy hisses. "Because he's still awake from his last nightmare about it!"

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Blaine whimpers, rocking back and forth and

Wes can't help but feel a little bad for him. He never remembers. Not like 'he didn't mean to do it at all remembers', but the kind of not remembering when your brain is trying to protect you from something you might not have done had your first boyfriend not fucked you up so _royally._ Kurt thinks Blaine's there because of hardcore bullies like those he faced at McKinley. Kurt doesn't know that Blaine's father switched him into Dalton after an attempted rape on his second boyfriend that resulted in a $20,000 payout and a piece of paper in his dad's safe, swearing that it was consensual and the boy just had a panic attack.

"Is he okay?" Blaine asks, voice small and scared.

Wes sighs, falling onto his bed, "He's fucked up, Blaine. You _choked_ him."

Blaine's eyes shutter, the only noise in the room their breathing (Wes's soft and calm even though he's fighting the urge to beat some sense into his best friend {or beat the craziness out of him}, Blaine's quick, panicked, and near sob as far as Wes could hear).

After a long, stifling silence, Wes quietly says, "He's not okay, Blaine."

The Harry Potter obsessed boy stills, hands trembling.

"You should probably call your dad," he suggests, standing and leaving Blaine to sob to himself.

Kurt Hummel had never considered himself a victim—not when Karofsky was at his worst or when his mom died. He wasn't a victim. He was strong, even if he didn't physically look it. He was a Hummel. He didn't do victim. He was merely had unfortunate circumstances on occasion. It didn't define who he was.

Until now.

He winced, pain shooting from his rear up his back as he shifted. It had been a long, hard, sleepless night, despite the comfort and care by David and Wes. He was plagued by Blaine's eyes: burning with lust, anger, and possessiveness as he took Kurt's virginity. He was plagued with pain from the slightest movement.

Feeling as if he were being watched (which was something he _really_ didn't want right now as he was already _thisclose _from having a mental breakdown and a panic attack), he glanced over at David, who's dark eyes were staring at him in a mixture of pity (which left a bad taste in Kurt's mouth), fondness (which helped to ease it), and concern.

"May I help you, David?" Kurt snapped, mustering up the most biting tone he was capable of (which was _quite_ acidic, mind you. He wasn't the MQBIC for nothing).

David's lips twitched, "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, perfect," he drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You know, despite the fact that my boyfriend…that my…"

He looked away, jaw clenching as he wrapped his arms closer to himself. Nausea welled in his throat as he thought about last night. He knew it shouldn't matter, but he wanted to know _why_. He wanted to know what exactly had 'messed' Blaine up so bad that he would even consider doing that to another person.

"Hey," David called softly. "Let's get some breakfast, okay?"

Kurt grumbled, falling against the bed and burying his face in the pillow, "Not hungry."

"Kurt, you gotta eat sometime, bud."

"I don't really want to right now, David," he snapped. Kurt sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm not…I'm not upset with you, it's just—this sucks."

David nodded, sitting on the bed next to Kurt, "Yeah. It really does."

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own different, yet oddly similar thoughts until Kurt's voice broke the stillness.

"How can you be so calm about this?"

He furrowed his brow, "What do you mean?"

"Your best friend just," he sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head, "he just…you and Wes, you took it so, so calmly, how?"

"This isn't the first time this has happened, Kurt," David confessed, picking at his cuticles.

"What?" Kurt breathed, feeling seriously nauseated now. He hopped off the bed, only barely making it to the toilet before violently emptying the contents of his stomach. A warm, soothing hand descended on his back, causing him to startle and smack his chin on the cool porcelain. "Ow! God Damnit!"

"Sorry," came David's sheepish voice.

"David, could you not right now? I really don't feel much like being touched."

A sad sigh and the hands left his back, "Understood."

Kurt leaned back against the outer shower wall (as it was immediately adjacent to the toilet, like a hotel bathroom, only smaller), closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. Once more silence descended upon the pair, this time lasting nearly fifteen minutes.

"So what are you going to do?"

Kurt opened a bloodshot, blue-green eye, arching his finely plucked eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"About Blaine—what he did."

He sighed deeply, eyes falling shut and skin paling a few shades, "Nothing. I'm going to go home."

"For how long?"

"For as long as I can," replied Kurt, eyes opening to lock with David's. "Somehow I think I would rather take the bullies—even they have never… I need to leave. This place, Dalton will never be the same for me, David. It was meant to be my safe haven and…surely you understand?"

David smiled sadly, tentatively sitting next to his small friend, "I understand. Doesn't mean I have to like it though, does it?"

Kurt tiredly leaned against David, feeling emotionally and physically drained. Why couldn't his life ever be simple?

"Not again, Blaine?" groaned the tall, raven-haired man, lounging against the leather computer chair in his son's dorm.

Blaine, red-eyed and small looking, curled in on himself once more, "I'm sorry, daddy."

Blake Gideon Anderson, Senator of Illinois, loved his son. He had always loved his son—more than anything. In the end, it had been what had ended his wife's and his relationship, the fact that Blaine came before anything else (even work) in Blake's life. When he found out his son was gay, he had been supportive, adding Gay Marriage Legalization to his register of issues to work on and researched what he needed to keep his son safe, happy, and sane.

He'd met Blaine's first boyfriend—a jock from the Public school Blaine attended. He hadn't liked the little creep, but the way that Blaine looked at him, like he lit up his world, well, it had convinced him _not_ to have the kid taken out (because even though he was a clean politician for the most part, he still _knew_ people). Then, when Blaine came home in tears, jeans stained and heartbroken, Blake had nearly made that call. But Blaine rebounded. He'd gone back to his original self—but at Dalton instead of Jefferson High.

Hearing that his son had raped the Holloway kid had been…unpleasant, to say the least. It had turned his stomach unpleasantly. But it didn't make him love him any less. It just told him that Blaine wasn't quite as together as he had originally thought. Nothing that a little money and therapy wouldn't fix.

He honestly never thought he'd have to deal with it again.

Then Blaine called, sobbing and Blake had caught the first flight to Columbus, making it to Westerville in record time.

He heaved a deep sigh, walking over to sit near his son and pull the short (he got his height from his mother) boy against his side. "I still love you kid, you know that?"

Blaine nodded.

"I'm disappointed in what you did, but we're going to get you help, okay? We're going to make sure this never happens again."

Bloodshot hazel eyes met his own as the young man croaked, "But Kurt…"

"I'll handle it, son. Don't worry," soothed Blake. "You said the kid doesn't come from a wealthy household?"

"No, but—"

"And his family has been having financial issues?"

"Yes, but—"

Blake smiled, "Then we're golden. No way he'll turn down $40 grand."

He was instantly confused as Blaine's face screwed up and another heaving sob escaped him, "But, I-I love him."

Blake's shoulders fell. He hadn't expected that. Carding his fingers through his son's wild, untamable hair, he whispered, "Bud, there are some things even _I_ can't fix."

Blake straightened his suit, stepping out into the hall and leaving his sleeping, calmer son behind. He already had the check on hand. It would clear easily. Turning the corner of the corridor, he came face to face with Blaine's friend.

"Wesley," he greeted, grinning.

Wes smiled, smaller and more forced, "Senator Anderson, how are you, sir?"

"Well, and yourself? You look as if you've gotten taller!"

The Asian boy nodded, "An inch or so, sir."

Blake faltered as the conversation came to an abrupt and awkward halt, before deciding that time was of the essence and he really needed to be getting back to Illinois. "Wesley, show me to Mr. Hummel's room, won't you?"

Wes's eyes hardened, but he nodded, leading the Senator down to flights of stairs, through a corridor, and around the corner. The dorms were smaller, meant for Sophomores, not Juniors, but Kurt _was_ a transfer and he was fortunate enough to have a single.

Wes knocked, succinct, but not too loud and the Senator marveled at his self control. He could read body language well enough to know that Wes was conflicted and furious. The door opened to reveal Blaine's other friend, Blake realized, David Weatherly, son of a successful entrepreneur.

"David," he greeted, politely. "Is Mr. Hummel awake?"

The dark-skinned teen nodded mutely, stepping aside as Blake and Wes entered. Blake had been expecting many things out of Kurt Hummel (his son had been blathering on about him for weeks, after all), but this small, pale boy taking measured, pain-filled steps as he packed away his belongings surprised him.

He had been expecting someone like Ross. Someone Blaine's size with a muscled physique and average looks—like Blaine's first boyfriend, but smaller.

Kurt Hummel was quite the opposite; stunning ivory skin, high cheekbones and full cheeks, a rounded, straight nose, vivid blue-green eyes, and a slender, lithe physique made him quite the opposite of Blaine's regular type.

The full, bruised lips and terror that was flashing through his glasz orbs didn't deter from Kurt's lovely visage. Blake imagined that Kurt and his son had made a very attractive couple before this happened.

"You must be Kurt," said Blake, flashing a cautious smile. He knew to keep his distance. Unfortunately this wasn't his first rodeo.

He nodded with an audible gulp, taking half a step back, most likely due to the resemblance between himself and his son.

"My name is Blake Anderson, Senator Anderson of Illinois," he smiled disarmingly, though it faltered when he realized what his next words were and that smiling probably wasn't the best option. "I've been informed of what happened, Kurt."

"Oh?" Kurt squeaked, voice tight as the arms that wrapped around his body protectively.

Blake nodded, taking a seat, "Kurt, you must understand, Blaine's damaged. He's been hurt before, just like you and he dealt with it by convincing himself that _that_ was what sex was."

A spark lit in Kurt's eyes, chin raising defiantly, "Senator Anderson, if you came to make excuses for your son, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I don't _care_ if this was how Blaine decided to deal with whatever may have happened to _him_. I _care_ that your son has done this to others and it's seemingly gone unnoticed."

The Senator's heart leapt at the Hummel boy's words, clearing his throat, he asked, "Are you planning on going to the police, son?"

Kurt's chin wobbled, "No."

"Why not, Kurt?" David questioned, almost sounding as if he wanted Kurt to. Blake would need to ask him about that later.

"Because it would _kill_ my father if he knew," breathed Kurt, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't do that to him—or to Carole or Finn. Our family is so new and…and…"

David wrapped a strong arm around his younger friend, ignoring the flinch it elicited from Kurt.

"Well, to guarantee your silence," Blake interjected, breaking the silence and pulling a document typed up by his attorneys earlier, "I was hoping that you would sign this."

Kurt glared wetly at him, lips pressed tightly together, "What is it?"

"Just a little contract that states that all sexual acts between you and my son were completely consensual."

The slender countertenor's chest heaved, face paling, but gaining an angry flush to his cheeks all at once, "What? Consensual? You want me to…it wasn't!"

The tall Warbler kept his supportive hold on Kurt, sending a sharp glare at his best friend's father and pulling Kurt against his chest, cooing soft reassurances until the boy calmed down enough, looking completely drained as he fell onto the bed, shaking his head.

"It wasn't consensual, Senator."

"I know," he quietly admitted. "But I need you to say it was."

Kurt shook his head, tears slipping from closed eyes. It felt like all he ever did was cry anymore.

"In exchange for forty thousand dollars."

His eyes shot open, an incredulous expression flashing across his face, "What?"

"Your silence in exchange for forty thousand dollars—enough to pay off those pesky medical insurance deductibles and keep the Hudson-Hummel family happy; your dad and stepmom can even go on that little vacation," stated Blake, grinning and showing Kurt the check.

"You're paying me off?" whispered Kurt angrily.

Blake's brows furrowed as he nodded.

"I am not some whore, Senator Anderson," the countertenor hissed. "I am not an object and I am _certainly_ not…"

Blake chuckled, earning glares from the three boys, "No, no, not like that. Think of it as…an apology. The deepest condolences from the Anderson family for the behavior of my son."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, blue-green eyes burning with rage, but tore out of David's hold and scratched out his signature, throwing the pen at Blake and snatching the check.

The Senator grinned, "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Get. Out," Kurt ordered, voice trembling with what Blake guessed were either tears or rage.

"Of course," he nodded, making his way over to the door. "Kurt, boys, goodbye."

When the door closed, Wes quietly muttered, "Bastard."

Kurt snorted in agreement before picking up a Swavorski book end and hurling it against the wall, causing a crack. He stared at the object for a few silent moments before letting out an odd, hysterical giggle causing Wes and David to exchange a concerned glance.

He didn't say anything, but a small smile turned at his lips. He wasn't okay. He was hurting—physically and mentally. But he wasn't broken. He was just a little cracked.

* * *

**AN: **Ya-like ya-like? Sorry, I was watching Will and Grace as I wrote this. I love Jack:) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter of **Seasons of Love**. I really enjoyed writing it. I mean, I totally slacked at work, but whatevs:D

...is it just me or did I make Blaine's dad seem like a total creeper...?

**kyubifreak **: While I believe that rape should always be reported no matter the circumstances, it doesn't really work into what I'm writing, however, I hope that the consequences Blaine will reap won't disappoint you:D Thank you for reviewing!

**Kamiroku**: Well, I hope you're still intrigued! I changed it from MPREG as I couldn't feasibly work it into the story and my anatomical idea made me sound batshit crazy and not at all like the sensible person I'd like to believe I am:D Thank you for reviewing!

**Yuna-chan S2**: I am so very glad that you're enjoying this fic:D You're review had me smiling for like ten minutes straight—I'm certain I creeped my roomie out. I like the darker side of Blaine, too, I just have a feeling that there's _something_ off about him. I mean, I adore the character (how could you not?), but he seems to perfect to be real, ya know? Anyway, THANK YOU!

**One Fine Wire**: As do I. I hope Blaine's story line carries into his past. I'm not buying the Prince Charming front:) I'm so glad, even though it isn't anymore, that you looked past the MPREG warning and read the story anyway!

You won't be disappointed in New Directions, trust me! They'll rally for him!

I'm from Utah, actually, the only state more conservative than Texas (sorry, Texas, but you have a bad rep from not allowing RENT to show, for reals?). Thank you so much:) I hope that someday, too, my sexuality won't be the key judging point when people first meet me. Thank you for your kind words and review:)

**Alice, my anonymous reviewer who is appreciated greatly**: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as well!

**RoseRedMisery**: I love them, too:) I wish they were friendlier to Kurt in the show…Thanks for your review!

**TheFutureMrKarofsky**: That's what I was going for! Thank you for the praise and your review! I hope you enjoy this chapter:D By the way, you have some awesome favorite stories! They've had me hooked all night.

**Kellylouisepotter:** Yay! I love that you used riveting! It made my night! There will be many more Wes/David moments:) They don't stop appearing when Kurt leaves, I promise!

**VirginiaGiver**: Thank you:) I hope you aren't disappointed!


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